


There's A First for Everything

by Dalzo



Series: Rickeen Week 2K16 [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 2k16, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Relationships, Explicit Language, F/M, Rickeen Week, Rickon X Shireen week, date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 01:19:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8124997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dalzo/pseuds/Dalzo
Summary: Shireen is forced on a date with a much younger and attractive man, who just so happens to have the brain of a six year old. But maybe he's not all bad.





	

_There's always a first for everything!_

This is  _exactly_ what my Cousin said in her overly-chipper voice while she was body-deep in my closet. 

"Myrcella. I  _don't_ want to go!" I snapped, temper rising by the second as she rummaged through various types of clothing, which ended up in a big messy pile on the floor of my much-too-tiny bedroom. 

"Why not?' She replied in that chirpy voice again. "It'll be fun!" 

"Right – _because having dinner with an immature twenty-two year old sounds fan-fucking-tastic!”_

“There’s the spirit!”

“Cell, last time I saw Rickon bloody Stark was when he did a nudie-run at your boyfriend’s barbecue!”

“It was a laugh. Robb smacked his butt as he passed, remember?” Myrcella laughed while I could only grimace. “His arse was probably red for days.” I flushed at the thought of Rickon Stark’s arse, and just how nice and round it was. A butt that good could _never_ go unnoticed.

“But did you _see_ the girl he brought with him?! She was fit-as, and did you see her knockers? Meanwhile I resemble a human-form of a Pug!”

“Pug’s are cute—”

“—you’re blind. _Pugs are disgusting!_  Their eyes are so gross and their pinched in faces – It’s like an ugly newborn baby. _I don’t want to go!”_

“You’re the only person who thinks that. And you’re going, no but’s _or_ ifs!” I groaned as she threw a dress at me, falling onto my bed. “Now get up and shower so I can do your bloody make-up!”

“What’s the point? It’s not like you can cover up _this!”_ I gestured to the left-half of my face. The side where my skin was all grey, mottled and looked all scaly like a lizard. It extended down to my neck. An ugly scar for an ugly girl – _how fitting._

 _“Shireen I will smack you!”_ La-di-dah tone now drained from Mrycella’s voice, it was now replaced by a stern cracking one which could rival both their mothers.

“I think I’m coming done with something—”

“NOW!” And with one last sigh, I pushed myself off the mattress and dragged my feet to the shower.

 

~ * ~ * ~

 

I looked in the mirror for another time, pulling the dress down and fiddling with the necklace that lay in the crevice between by breasts. I wanted to wipe all the makeup off, dress comfortably and put on some underwear that _didn’t_ rest in the crack of my arse! With the work Myrcella did, it was like she _expected_ me to shag Mr. Rickon tonight. _Not a chance in the Seven Hells._

“Aw, Shireen, you look stunning!”

“I look stupid!”

“You look gorgeous. Now hush and get me your wallet!” I sighed without protest and did what she asked, handing her my wallet before studying my reflection once again. With my hair pinned high and the deep red skin-tight dress that hugged every curve, although small they were, I had to admit I looked good. _If only I had a pretty face._

Yes, the make-up did sort of help, but it only accentuated my blue eye’s which _would not_ be enough to distract anyone from the real sight. In other words, I was still hideous. There were times people would look and flinch – my ex-boyfirend Devan didn’t dare touch it with his hands. _And my parents… they were the worst of them all._ My mother would sneer down at me, making snippy comments that would make me ‘more pretty’ and my father was always too busy fucking some religious bitch half his age to notice. Always caught up in his work or his mistress.

“Hey!” I yelled out after something in the mirror caught my eye. Whirling around to face my cousin, I stared her down. “What did you just do?” I quickly snatched the wallet from her hands and pulled out the ‘prize’.

“You need protection.” She replied shyly.

“A fucking condom? Really Cell?” She just shrugged and laughed. Suddenly she gasped and jumped.

“Oh shit you need to go!” You’re going to be late!” And with that she pushed me out the door and shoved me into her car to drive me there. The restaurant ‘Ironwood’ wasn’t too far away, so we arrived in no time and suddenly Myrcella was shouting her goodbye’s and telling me to have fun.   

And so here I am, _still_ waiting for Rickon Stark to show up even though it’s been twenty minutes. People in the small restaurant stared, mostly because of my scar but being alone didn’t help. _‘How can Myrcella even think this will work?’_ I thought glumly, elbow resting on table and chin in hand, manners completely forgotten. _He’s twenty-two, I’m twenty-five. I’m supposed to be settling down and he’s a spring chicken._

 _‘your’re not that old Shir’_ I could practically hear Myrcella say all the while she’d roll her eyes and smirk. _I teach children and suddenly she wants me to date one…_

“Shireen?” Jumping in my seat, I turn quickly and stare into sapphire blue eyes – much like my own. Auburn curls rest atop his head, falling effortlessly into his eyes. His long face, strong jaw and chiselled features accompanied with high-cheekbones is like a hormonal teen’s fantasy. He is _utterly_ boyishly attractive, and Gods be good does he pull it off. Tall and lean and muscled – _Seven Hells I’m blushing like a twelve year old._

“Hi…” Was all I could mutter, accompanied by my tomato-red face. Fuck. My. Life.

“Um, hey…” He shrugged, looking away before turning back to me. “You look… stunnig.” He’d said it like it was almost a question, and the hope I hadn’t known to be lingering was gone instantly. I raised my brow at him.

“So are you going to sit?” It was almost amusing how fast he got to his seat – but the noise he made took away the humour as well as the stares that had only died down a few minutes before. He cleared his throat, poured himself a glass of water from the complimentary jug placed on every table and gulped down every last gulp. _A child indeed…_

“I’m sorry for being late!” He said breathlessly. “My dog, you see – he shat on the carpet and I was going to leave it but then changed my mind because what if he ate it? You know?” He chuckled. “SO THEN I cleaned it up and look at that; _there’s shit on my suit!_

“Yeah and by the time I was all clean and on the road – BOOM – there’s fucking traffic!” The boy didn’t know how to slow down or how to be quiet, which is why he was now gulping down another glass. “So anyways, how was your day?”

“Oh,” I gasped, shocked. “Nothing _too_ eventful, just work and now this I guess.” I replied shyly.

“Wow. That sounds _bor-ing!”_  He threw his arms out as he exclaimed the harsh word, pronouncing every syllable in a very drawn out way.

“I’m sorry?” I said, feeling affronted.

“Oh, no offense.” He added with a cheeky grin, leaning back in his chair. “It’s just that doesn’t sound very fun. You didn’t, you know, chill with friends _or_ go for a run or anything?”

“Nope. Just work – sorry to burst your bubble Rick’, but some people have to work for a living. You know for money to buy essentials and pay bills – _Adult life stuff.”_

“Ouch.” He smirked in a way that made me uncomfortable but excited me at the same time. _Damn._ “You’re bite is _hard_ missy. I do work. I’m in a band and we get some gigs and shit – we’re called Sausage Fest Misfits.”

“How charming.”

“Pretty rad, right?” He didn’t seem to get my sarcasm. “We cover all these 70’s and 80’s rock songs. You know, like Bon Jovi, the Kingsguard, Wolfswood and Def Leppard. ‘Pour some sugar on me’ is a crowd favourite.” He said smugly.

“So you don’t write your own stuff?”

“We do that too. I wrote a song about my dog, Shaggydog—” _Shaggydog?_ “—and also about how the government is corrupt. My buddy Ryon, the bassist, wrote ‘Revenge of the Refugees’ and ‘Pokémon Go-home’. I believe my best song is ‘Revenge 4 Harambe’.”

        _“Up in Monkey heaven, here's the thing_  
        You trade your legs for angels wings  
        And once we’ve all said good-bye  
        You take a running leap and you learn to fly”

My hands flew to my face in embarrassment as he started to sing, jumping up on the chair and doing the whole ‘air guitar’ thing, screeching at the top of his lungs that had the whole restaurant in shock. My mortification would never end it seems.

        “ _Bye Bye_ _Biggie Harambe_  
_Miss you in all the saddest way-ayy-ayys_  
_Bye Bye Biggie Harambe_  
_You’re 5000 dicks out in the wind”_

_Holy fuck! Holy fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu—_

“I’m sorry for getting us kicked out.” He mumbled, hands in pocket while I stormed beside him, _trying_ to outwalk him. With a huff, I lifted up one leg and proceeded to take off my heels. Rickon stopped to steady me which only fuelled my anger. _Stupid Myrcella. And stupid Rickon! And fucking stupid Harambe_ (don’t hate me plz).

“Whoa, slow down a sec—”

“What in the Seven Hells is wrong with you? Is _this,”_ I gestured with flailing arms. “ _Life,_ all a bloody joke to you. I didn’t want to come to this ‘date’ anyways, but hey, congratulations on making this already shit day shittier.” I started stomping off, but his great booming laughter stopped me in my tracks.

“Man, you’re more uptight then I thought you were.”

“Me? Uptight?” I poked his chest, _hard,_ before craning my neck to glare into his eyes, arms crossed against chest firmly.

“Yes, _sweetheart,_ uptight.”

“Well you’re immature and completely immature. My seven year old students have more common sense in their brains then you do!”

“And you have _no_ idea to have fun!” He shouted back, neck vein _popping._ “Every time Myrcella brings you somewhere, you’re always so tame and distant. Sure, maybe I’m a little irresponsible but hey, at least I actually _live_ a little unlike you.”

“Oh please, you can only do all that stuff because it was handed to you. Your parents basically fund you and all your ‘expeditions’, you’re good looking and _somehow_ girls actually find you charming.” Form the look on his face, I had touched a nerve. A very _sensitive_ nerve.

“You know _absolutely_ nothing about me!” He gritted out.

“The same goes for me, bud!”

“And don’t act like you don’t know you’re pretty!”

“That’s low, even for you! Taking the piss out on something that isn’t funny! _Stop mocking people and treat others with respect!_ ”

“I’m not taking— _wait, you really think you’re ugly.”_ I scoffed immediately after I watched his eyes soften, and turned to leave. But his hand grabbed my wrist and I was face to face with tensions running high and intense blue eyes _ruining_ my already conflicted emotions.

And as is it couldn’t get any worse, the Seven Heavens opened and poured down icy-cold rain to wash away the sin of a night. Rickon acted fast, grabbed my hand and ran.

It was clear that I was _very_ unfit, and Rickon could only laugh when groaned about my stitch. And by the time we reached the destination I was breathless and all Myrcella’s hard work had gone to waste.

 _“Ice cream?”_ I shivered out, giving him a confused look.

“It’ll clear you out. _And_ give you cool dreams. Ice-cream before sleep always makes me dream about cowboys in space with dragons and witches and all that shit. It’s cool.” And for the _first_ time that night, I realised just how strange Rickon Stark was. And despite the awful night and the horrible argument, I realised that I actually liked him. Maybe it was his confidence that I liked or his easy-going nature, or maybe it was his strange random outbursts and ideas that had convinced me to give him some time. All I knew is that I liked him, envied him and _wanted_ to be him.

“You’re weird.” I said, giggling, unable to help myself. The cute boyish lopsided-grin on his face only made me smile harder.

“What flavour? And if you say _vanilla_ I’m going to do something stupid that you won’t appreciate.” I laughed.

“I’m tempted, but mint choc-chip is my favourite.”

“Good.” He muttered, before shooting off to the front counter. I studied the small ice-cream shop and it’s strange pastel colouring, choosing a booth with strange patterns covering the seat and table. I was running my fingers along the lines out of boredom when Rickon returned.

“Cool, huh? It’s like a hipster’s ice-cream palace.” _That was one way to put it._ “So… about before. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said—”

“—no, no, no.” I interrupted. “I was just as out of place. _If-not more._ ” He smiled awkwardly at me, a sight I’d never seen on him.

“So it’s forgotten.”

“Yes.” I smiled back. “All is in the past.”

“Good.”

“Gods, what flavour did you get?” I said, sneering down at his plastic cup before eating a spoonful of my own minty goodness. He grinned.

“I like to mix my flavours. You know, like Neopolitan Ice-Cream _only_ I do unconventional flavours. This is a mixture of Cake-Batter, Liquorice and Rum-N-Raisin. _Genius, right?”_

“That sounds like filth.” He just laughed, and suddenly the conversation was flowing. Only this time, it was more focused on me. I talked about my job and told him about all the funny encounters I had with the kids. I told him about my cat, Patches, which he scrunched up his nose at because ‘cats are disguised devils’ but he listened anyways. I talked about my favourite music, which again he had to comment on, movies and books. I even opened up on my love for anime, to which he called me a nerd before pledging himself as one too as he _also_ watched _‘an’ anime._

And he told me stories of all his siblings, and how he hated being so much younger than them all. He told me _more_ about Shaggydog and how many bones he had broken and how he’d managed to injure himself and suddenly it was ten-thirty and we were again being kicked out of a building (all in good nature this time).

The rain had cleared up and I couldn’t help but take pleasure in stepping in the puddles, unaware that Rickon was watching my every move from behind me.

“So you _do_ know how to have fun?” He asked jokingly, making me whirl around and stare him down.

“I thought this was in the past.” He held his hands up in surrender. I sighed and started walking again. “The truth is… I’ve never really had any friends. I was an only child and every kid at my school used to bully me about my appearance. I was basically cursed all because of this ugly fucking scar!” I kicked a puddle as I said this aloud. “My parents are boring. My father is always working or with his ‘mistress’ and my mother is a psychopath who desperately wants me to be a boy. I guess she’s sort of reversed the stereotype that mother wants a girl and a father wants a boy, huh?” I snorted at this, however it was bitter and toneless. “Of course, I had Myrcella, but she lived so far away at the time. I was lonely. _I’ve grown up lonely._ I don’t know _how_ to be fun to you, _Rickon._ My typed of fun is staying inside, watching reruns or curling up with a book. They’re _my_ adventures…”

It fell silent again, and I shivered as Rickon fell into step beside me.

“My parents.” He began carefully, almost like he was telling me something that only few people had heard. “My parents – they forced me to some stupid all-boys correcting school in Skaagos. It was awful and cold and miserable. I felt so isolated, you know, and being there for two years really drained me. There was nothing to do there – I, like you, didn’t really have any friends. In fact, my _only_ friend was the crazy counsellor Osha. She was nice and she made me laugh.” Rickon sighed and placed his hands in his pockets. I studied him and flushed as I thought about how _beautiful_ he was.

“I hated them for a long time, you know.” He turned to me then, unfazed by the way I just stared. “My parents. I… I wouldn’t speak to them, wouldn’t look at them. _And now—_ well, now I understand. But sending me away never helped. I mean, if Osha hadn’t have been there I would’ve ended up worse then I already was. They… _they_ isolated me. I needed love at that time, and care and attention. I know I was really _fucked_ up and doing some really _fucked_ up shit. I understand why they did it, and I don’t resent them for it. But I didn’t need that. _Not in the slightest.”_

For the rest of the walk home we seemed to mould into silence. I didn’t know how to respond and neither did he so we walked on and on, comfortably accepting the quiet. And once we reached my doorstep, I found myself sad that the night had ended. Maybe it was because I had such low expectations, but I _really_ didn’t want him to leave.

”So… I guess this was fun.” I said awkwardly.

“I thought you said you didn’t know how to have fun?” He teased, and I replied with force, hitting his arm. I glared at him more when he clutched the other arm in an over-dramatic way – _the one I didn’t punch!_

“Goodnight, Shireen.” And with that, he leaned down and kissed my cheek.

_Kissed my cheek. The scarred one. Seven Hells._

I was still stunned when he spoke again and quite loudly.

“Oh, _here!”_ He thrust a card in my hand. “My number might be handy. I mean, you could’ve got it off Myrcella or whatever, but at least this way I forced you to have it which means even if you cared to have it or not you now have it.”

“Do you _ever_ draw a breath?” He smirked again.

“No. _Goodnight, Shireen.”_  He turned away while I studied the card, internally screaming on the inside about the fact that he _actually_ kept cards on him that had **Misfit Sausage Fest** written on it. “Oh, and. You’re actually really beautiful. Don’t think you’re not because you are, even with that scar. Really, when I saw you tonight I felt winded from looking at you. I can’t really explain—”

I kissed him. His lips on mine, all soft and warm. It was simple, and arguably the nicest kiss I’d ever experienced so far. I opened my eyes and stared into those blue orbs that were brighter than the stars. “Rickon, shut up.” I finally said, before standing on the tips of my toes to brush my lips over his once again.

Finally, after a time, I pulled away, slowly walking backwards and grinning like a fool. I was biting my lip, pushing away the urge to kiss him again and watched him looking all stunned and shit. _“Goodnight Rickon.”_

And then I left him on the doorstep, and did a giddy dance that was so-like Myrcella she’d be proud.

 

~ * ~ * ~

 

He hadn’t replied in ages. _Why isn’t he replying?_

“He kissed me on the cheek, Cell! _On my scarred cheek.”_ I checked my phone was again, but only the lock screen came up and I groaned for the fiftieth time that day. “Devan _never_ did that. _Seven Hells, my parents never even did that!”_

“I told you he was nice. And I kiss you on the cheek all the time.” Myrcella replied as she folded clothes, looking all golden and good.

“That doesn’t count, you’re like my best friend! And he won’t fucking reply!” I felt like screaming. I hadn’t felt irritation like this since I had to deal with those two bloody kids fighting in the sandpit that one, horrible day.

“ _He’s_ _irresponsible, remember?”_ She teased. I responded with a pillow, flying at her head.

“I’m too old for him.”

“You’re really not…” She deadpanned.

“And he’s so attractive while I _resemble a pug.”_ Myrcella rolled her eyes at this.

“And he’s so fun and adventurous while I’m boring and old and ugly—”

 Just then my phone dinged, and I scrambled to grab it and read the message with a smile. I quickly typed my reply, not caring whether I wrote back too fast or not.

I stared up at the ceiling, thinking. Biting my lip, releasing it, then biting it again. “I’ve never dated a younger guy before.”

Myrcella smiled at this.

_“There’s a first for everything!”_

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of stole Lil' Sebastians song from Parks & Recs and rearranged some lyrics. All for humour, of course!
> 
> HAPPY RICKEEN WEEK Y'ALL!


End file.
